It's Just War
by pedosmile
Summary: Maybe if little baby Italy had ever known of Greece, had ever known what was done to him, then he would know that Greece... he couldn't be broken so easily. -- WWII Greece.


**It's Just War**

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Authors Note: **This is just a short drabble of sorts on when Greece was invaded by Italy. My spin on how he feels about it. It's a bit old, about two months or so, but I enjoyed writing it. I hope everyone enjoys reading it! And, just a fair warning, it does mention the Holocaust a bit, but nothing terrible. Thank you for reading!

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He smiles when they throw him into this tiny little prison, one with bars and all. He smiles because Ludwig and Feliciano think they can contain him, think that all the random disappearances and murders of the Italian soldiers were stopped because they had confined him. It's funny because they think Heracles is the one doing it, most of it anyways, and it's even funnier that they think since they have him in this cell that the murders will stop. That the disappearances will stop. That his people are just going to give up hope without him. It's funny because _he_ wasn't the one _organizing_ the rallies, he was just there to help, and Ludwig and Feliciano just think it's going to stop his people. But what they don't know is that his people are strong, stronger than they could ever imagine, and they had pride in their country.

Throw one man in, another man will take his place. It was a simple enough concept. But it wasn't like they could hold _all_ of the people behind these rebellions because, oh, there were entirely _too_ many for them to contain. Sure, they could strike fear into his people but, more than anything, that will just drive them even more so to continue on with these little escapades.

And they think think that by holding Heracles in this tiny little claustrophobic room that it will stop him.

But he would play along for now, he'd play the part of the good, patient little prisoner of war. Besides, he had all the time in the world, he had all the time to plot and think and dram of revenge as he sits in this cell, as he listens to the strong voices of his people as they whisper about the soldiers, about the disappearances. Even in this moment as he sits, looking up at the ceiling, he can feel their pride, their strength, thrumming through him. Yes, sometimes he felt the occasional fear, the occasional pang of doubt, could hear their wondering whispers about if they would ever be free of the Italians and Germans, if the country could ever survive, but he wasn't even phased. Heracles wasn't too concerned himself. He may not have been as strong or as amazing as his mother, he may not have compared to her, but he was still _strong_, he was still_ smart_ and he knew how to _survive_.

He wouldn't let his nation die, he wouldn't allow it to be controlled for too long.

It was because he was Greece, for centuries he had always held his own, always rose back, always, because he had that fierce sort of strength that many of the Mediterranean nations had, that many other nations were in fear or awe over. And Feliciano thought he was so amazing for finally having been able to take over Heracles's country, the ancient country with it's ancient ties, ancient empires, ancient art and ancient stories. Heracles just laughed at it, laughed because little Feliciano was oh so _sure_ of himself, he had that infamous Italian arrogance but it was only coming out _now_ because he was in Greece with his soldiers and guns. He could talk big because he _always_ had Ludwig to back him up.

But that's how it's always been, Feliciano had always been running to someone stronger, someone better when he couldn't handle it himself. He was a coward in the lowest form, he was a man, a nation, that Heracles would never respect because he couldn't do anything _himself_ and then _boasted_ about all his strengths, all his victories, all his _lies_. Ludwig, however, was a man he _did_ respect. Certainly that's why _his_ soldiers weren't dying or going missing at night, why they weren't the ones being singled out on a dark road on a dark night.

_They_ were not _cowards_ like the Italians. _They_ did not run or beg for their life, they did not plead for the mercy they certainly did not _deserve_, they did not whisper things about having a wife or children and "_please don't kill me, please don't kill me, please don't kill me_" when a gun was shoved against their temple because at least they _knew_ they were wrong in what they had done. At least they _remembered_ the people of Heracles's country that they had slaughtered, the others from other countries they had killed. At least they had the courage to look Heracles, his people, in the eye when they were murdered. And they never cried, they never even let out a whimper, many were always so utterly calm and composed that it sometimes surprised Heracles.

Perhaps they knew that this was coming, that they would do this for their country also if their country had ever been invaded, fighting like this because it was the only advantage they had when they did not have an army or many weapons at their disposal and it was the _only_ thing they could really _do_. Of course, it was not "proper war etiquette" and, oh, he had heard Feliciano whine like a little bitch over this _all_ the time, complaining about how it wasn't playing _fair_ or by the _rules_ and how the Greeks were playing _dirty_ never mind what _he_ was doing. Heracles could never quite recall a time where was _was_ fair because, honestly, when was it _ever_? And as for the proper etiquette...? Well, there hadn't been any of that in a long, long time and it was hilarious that Feliciano thought that what he was doing was "proper". When it came to war, everyone played dirty, everyone did what they had to do to win, to prtoect their people, to have the least causalities, whatever. And everyone was aware of it.

So, who could really expect Heracles to sit around, to do _nothing_, to just let his people _die_? Who would even _expect_ that out of him? Sadiq had always said that Heraces's pride and his people's pride would be the downfall of him, of his nation and of his people. That his stubbornness, his anger, would get him killed. Because Heracles _always_ fought when it came to his country, Heracles never sat around and just twiddled his thumbs unless he knew that it would be more beneficial for him and his people. And Heracles would always continue to fight, he wasn't a _coward_, nor was he _ever_ going to allow another nation to invade and occupy his land so _easily_. He had leared from Sadiq early, he had learned to never, _ever_ let that happen again.

He was never going to allow himself to be so weak, so small, to give up so easily like he had.

And he just _seethes_ when he thinks of Sadiq but at least the bastard had taught him something. At least he showed Greece first hand what it was like to be so _weak_, to be so _powerless_, to be a slave of another, more powerful nation and to just _crave_ that _freedom_. He gave Heracles the first hand knowledge of what it was like to be exploited by a more powerful nation, gave him that hatred, that disgust. Sadiq only had himself to thank for building up that pride and arrogance that had always annoyed him.

Heracles had learned to never allow that to happen again to him, to never let his people suffer, to not be free, to lose their identity, and to _never_ go down without a fight. And maybe that made him stupid, maybe that made him too blind or too full of pride, but it's what allowed him to survive for so long. It's what made him who he was. Maybe if he hadn't ever been taken over by Sadiq, maybe, just maybe things would be different. Maybe he wouldn't be so strong willed, maybe he would have just let the Italian's invade his country successfully the first time and he would have shown them his belly. Maybe there wouldn't be so many deathes, so many injuries, so much destruction, maybe maybe maybe...

But he doubts it. He doubts it because his mother was like this as well. His mother had _raised_ him to be like this. His mother would be _disappointed_ in him if he had _ever_ allowed himself to do something like that. And Heracles, well, he wasn't one who wanted to disappoint his mother, even if she wasn't around to see, to witness.

Dwelling on the past in this moment... that was not going to get him anywhere and he knew it. The past, his past, it was what had created him, it was what had helped him, his nation, fend off the Italian military the first time they had attempted the take over with such little weaponry. It was what was going to get them through this, it was what was going to allow them to pick themselves up and dust themselves off and continue on their way.

Feliciano should have known better. If the idiot had ever paid any attention to the other Mediterranean nations, if his equally as stupid grandfather (now, Heracles respected Ancient Rome, he was a force to be reckoned with, but he just hated how he was constantly flirting with his mother) had ever told poor little baby Feliciano of war, of the Ottomans, taught him anything about other empires then maybe little Italy would have known that Greece... he can't be broken so easily.

Sometimes, people, nations, they forget this. Sometimes people think he's just as lazy as the Italians because they happened to be neighbors, because he was always zoning out or sleeping at meetings. They doubt him because how could he ever be as strong as his mother, how could he ever compare to what Sadiq once was? Especially in this day and age when he was utterly without a military and weapons, when he wasn't the one taking over other countries, starting wars, when he was just focused on his own nation. And then they see his people, they see the rebellion and the riots, they see the pure strength, the intensity that sweeps his country.

_No,_ he was _not_ like the other Mediterraneans, he was a strategist, a fighter, and he knew what worked best and he knew how to work around things. But Sadiq was like this, too, although he used more brute strength than Heracles. And Sadiq still had that power, that burning pride like Heracles, too, and at least he understood that about Heracles. At least he respected the other nation for that, even if he was annoyed by it. But Sadiq wasn't apart of this war, Sadiq was choosing to remain neutral and choosing to take in all of the people Heracles couldn't protect, like the Jewish people. How _kind_ of him.

Ah, yes.

They were being persecuted everywhere, the Jewish people. It wasn't just in _his_ country, it was every where, nations were literally slaughtering their own people for the sake of some mad man that was Ludwig's leader. Heracles had _never_ even considered doing this in his own country, nor did his leaders, nor did he ever want such things, such people, in his country, his home. And how could _any_ of these nations _want that_? How could they ever even _consider_ doing it? Nations, their land, it was supposed to be a safe place for everyone, they were supposed to treat everyone equally, keep them safe and from harm. As safe as they could make it anyways. But he supposed that, maybe, the nations who were allowing these disgusting slaughters to happen just _thought_ that this was what was going to make their people _safe_.

Or perhaps they didn't agree with their leaders at all. Perhaps they were just faking it.

But, see, Heracles wasn't faking it. Heracles _didn't_ want people to be persecuted for their religion, their race, in his country. His land was not meant to be a place where people lived in fear because of what religion they chose to practice. And yet so many were fleeing his country, the ones who were scared, the ones who didn't believe or have faith in Heracles, the ones with doubt. They had saw what had happened to Poland, had heard, and perhaps they were afraid that this would happen to Heracles. But they should have known that he wouldn't _ever_ allow it, that his people wouldn't either. And, yes, he was aware that many countries were having similar problems, he was certainly _not_ the only one, but he was disgusted by it.

He supposed that, really, he only had Feliciano to thank for that. The prat couldn't seem to hold his own against Heracles, who's military was poorly outmatched compared to the Italian military, so he whined to Ludwig until he finally got his way. And then the Germans were sent in and it was an absolute mess. A terrible, terrible mess that Heracles never wanted. And, yet, he didn't really worry over _them_. No, his only concern was for his people and their protection, for the war that could possibly come, for everything that could and would happen and that he was wanting to avoid.

He's thinking of them now, head pressed back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling with dull, blank eyes as he hears them. He can hear someone speaking, talking to some large group of people in a dimly lit basement, talking of an upcoming riot. And it felt as if he were there with them and he was whispering words of encouragement in their ears, even though he was stuck in this cell, in this prison. He was feeding them the energy that they gave him because it was _their_ strength that made him who he was, that made him able to stand tall through a war and to never _waver_. He can see that they're all welling with the idea of the riot, of protecting their country, their homes, he can hear their excited whispers, feel the energy that was surging through the crowd, through him. Yes, they will get their country back. Yes, they will have their revenge, no matter how _small_ it is. It will be _their_ revenge.

His thoughts, their speech, are interrupted when he hears someone approaching his tiny cell. He doesn't even move, just looks over out of the corner of his eye to see that it was Kiku standing on the other side of the bars in his pristine little white militaristic outfit that was entirely too flashy for war. That wasn't even _meant_ for war and Heracles was just surprised that it wasn't stained with blood.

He just smirks a bit, looking away from the other nation. It's amusing to think of Japan standing on the other side of the bars that were holding him in, as the one who had absolutely _no_ idea of Feliciano invading, as the one who was actually _upset_ over it. It was funny because here was Kiku supposedly "caring" about the enemy, though that was actually _very_ hard to believe, when he...

Well, Kiku was rather disgusting to Heracles at the moment. His morals, his beliefs, all of those little words and speeches that Kiku would give were all lies in the end. Everyone changed during war, some people more than others, but Kiku was completely different. Kiku was a sort of monster, the kind of monsters that Heracles hated, the kind that he never respected and was absolutely disgusted by.

Heracles can't help but wonder if these sides, the ones that all the nations showed during war, the ugly sides, were their true selves. That these sides were the ones they hid because they were so hideous, so shameful. That they were all just pretending with their smiles and laughter and "friendships" because, let's face it, that _always_ went out the door when it came to war. Two nations that could have been "friends" were suddenly enemies, were at each others throat, were killing each others people.

Well, if anything, it at least gave him a vague sense of how certain nations were, like Kiku, like Feliciano.

"Did you come to visit...?" there was a mocking tone to Heracles's voice as he broke the silence, looking back over at Kiku, who just nodded slowly, saying nothing.

"That's odd," he tilts his head, just staring at Kiku, eyes sharp, face an even calm of mask.

"Is it...?" there's no inflection to Kiku's voice, his face equally as calm as Heracles's.

Greece just smirks. "Yes, because... I don't believe I know you," he lifts his chin a bit in amusement when he sees a flicker of emotion pass through Kiku's eyes, just for an instant, barely noticeable, and then it was gone. "You're certainly not the Kiku I know. The Kiku _I_ know, well, he had morals. He wasn't slaughtering so many innocent people, he wouldn't be aiding the persecution of people just because of their _religion_..." he trailed off, raising his brows a bit as Kiku just stared at him. And then he gave a hint of a smile, something eery that would have made most people's stomach flip with anxiety, would make most people shiver and utter some sort of apology. But not Heracles. He was all too used to this. He wasn't _afraid_ of Kiku, he wasn't afraid of _any_ nation.

He was just angry and disgusted with them, with Kiku.

And right now... right now he didn't even want to _look at_ Kiku, this murderous shell, this vile thing. It repulsed him that someone like this was talking to him, that he had even stepped foot into his country, this fucking ruthless nation who killed just to kill, who killed for power and without any sort of remorse or emotion or thought of just how it could affect a country and it's people.

But it was what he wanted.

Kiku, in this moment, he was power hungry, he was on this tainted cloud of ideals and dreams. Heracles could just _feel_ it radiating off of him, like he had when Sadiq was claiming all those countries as his own, Kiku was too weak, though, too small to do that, to become a large empire. Besides, times had changed, that wasn't much possible anymore, or so he believed. The whole invasion and partition of Feliks and his nation had just proved Heracles wrong. But what could Kiku take over, what was he possibly going to expand when he was just an island nation? His ocean?

It wasn't as if he could expand his land over onto another nation, like Russia and Germany had with Poland.

So, ultimately, really, what Kiku wanted couldn't possibly happen. It couldn't happen because times were different, nations weren't powerful empires like they once were, they weren't as weak, they couldn't be controlled so easily...

"It's just war, Heracles..." Kiku stated evenly, as if it was a fact of life Heracles should have already been aware of, a fact he should have brushed off and never given any thought. Because other countries did it, all nations did, it was just the dirty business of war. Nations had to adjust, to keep up, to stay strong. They had to kill or else they'd fall, they'd become weak, they'd be "killed". That was a "fact of life" everyone knew, that was a "fact of life" no one could ignore.

"Ah, yes," Heracles breathes, the amused smile on his lips, "you can say that, Kiku, because no one has invaded your country, no one has slaughtered your people. Instead, however, you're the one doing that. You're the one killing all those innocent people because of your _greed_." they look at each other, serious once again, the trace of any smile wiped clean of Heracles's face. "Of course you can say that because you're the one helping with the invasions all for your own selfish desires, for your disgusting and deluded dreams, for things you think are possible but _aren't_. So, I'd suggest, Kiku, that you don't come to visit me again. Do not show your face to me, do not even step one foot inside the Mediterranean. You disgust me and you no longer have any business here or with me."

Kiku doesn't say anything, doesn't even move, and there's no emotion on his face. It's just blank, cold. But Heracles can feel that dangerous, venomous temper of his that always got him in trouble. It was choking him. But it doesn't even show, it doesn't even break through his calm exterior or voice. And then he just smiles softly to the other nation, a sweet, mocking sort of smile.

"It's just war, Kiku."


End file.
